Chapter 2 - The House on Lough Derg
The armored sedan moved swiftly through the winding, dark backroads of County Clare, far away from the main highways and bright city lights.
Evelyn sat in the leather back seat, watching the raindrops streak across the reinforced glass window. Beside her sat Marco, who spent the entire forty-minute drive operating two encrypted mobile phones, speaking in rapid, hushed Italian.
“Is he alive?” Evelyn asked quietly, breaking the heavy silence inside the car.
Marco finished typing a message before looking up. “Mr. Vitelli is awake. The digitalis never entered his system thanks to the epinephrine administered by the pediatrician on the flight. His oxygen levels are stabilizing.”
“Where are we going?”
“A private estate near Lough Derg,” Marco answered. “It belongs to a holding company controlled by the Vitelli family. It is secure, isolated, and unknown to our associates in Italy.”
“And how long am I supposed to stay there?” Evelyn demanded, her frustration rising. “I have a life in New York. I have an apartment in Queens, a sister in Ohio, and a shift scheduled for Thursday.”
“Your shift has been canceled, Miss Foster. Your airline has granted you three weeks of administrative leave with full pay,” Marco said, pulling out a manila folder from the door pocket and handing it to her. “As for your apartment... two hours ago, NYPD responded to a break-in at your address in Queens.”
Evelyn’s eyes widened in horror. She snatched the folder open. Inside were printed security photos showing her apartment door smashed off its hinges, her living room flipped upside down, her drawers emptied onto the floor.
“My God...” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. “Did they... was anyone there?”
“Your landlord was unharmed because he was in the basement,” Marco said gently, his tone softening slightly. “The men who entered were looking for your flight logs, your personal phone, and anything linking you to Antonio’s travel itinerary. They wanted to see if you were working for a rival family.”
Evelyn slumped back against the seat, her mind racing in absolute terror. “This is insane... I don't know anything about mob families! I just served him a cup of coffee and held an oxygen mask!”
“In our world,” Marco said coldly, “doing the right thing at the wrong time is the most dangerous crime you can commit.”
The sedan slowed down, turning onto a long gravel driveway flanked by ancient, towering oak trees.
At the end of the driveway stood a massive, three-story stone manor overlooking the dark, mist-shrouded waters of the lake. High iron gates closed automatically behind the vehicle, and four armed men in dark raincoats stepped out from the trees to inspect the car before waving them through.
The car stopped in front of the stone portico.
The heavy front doors of the estate opened, revealing a grand foyer warmed by a towering roaring fireplace. Standing near the hearth, wearing a thick charcoal wool sweater and dark trousers, was Antonio Vitelli.
His face was still pale, and a clear plastic IV port was taped to the back of his left hand, but his dark eyes were bright, focused, and sharp as flint.
As Evelyn stepped through the front door, shivering from the cold lake wind, Antonio turned toward her.
He walked across the polished flagstone floor, stopping three feet away. Up close, without the dim cabin lights of the aircraft, his presence was overwhelming—commanding, dangerous, yet striking.
“Miss Foster,” Antonio said. His voice was deep, smooth, and laced with a rich Roman accent.
Evelyn squared her shoulders, refusing to shrink back. “Mr. Vitelli. I see you’re walking.”
A faint, subtle smile touched the corner of Antonio’s mouth. “Thanks to you.”
“I’m only here because your head of security told me my apartment was trashed and my life is in danger,” Evelyn said sharply.
Antonio’s smile vanished completely, replaced by an icy, terrifying stillness. He looked past her toward Marco.
“Who was it?” Antonio asked quietly.
“The preliminary reports point to the Moretti faction in Rome,” Marco replied. “They knew about the modified medication case. When the flight diverted to Ireland instead of crashing in international waters, they panicked.”
May you like
Antonio turned back to Evelyn, his gaze softening with genuine regret.
“I am sorry, Evelyn,” Antonio said softly. “You performed your duty with courage and honor, and in return, my enemies have dragged you into the gutter. But hear me clearly: as long as you are under my roof, no harm will come to you. You saved my life at thirty-seven thousand feet. Now, it is my duty to preserve yours.”
